Anamnesis

by Samantha

Five years ago, an attack on Hogsmeade shatters the dreams of young Harry Potter. In the years past, he cannot move on from his grief until he meets a woman who knows nothing about who she is. Together they discover the truth and lies of the community an

1. One Sweet Day

Anamnesis

Part One:

One Sweet Day

This part is dedicated to Narri, my beta reader who is always full of encouragement, and every person who has ever written a positive review to any of my stories. You don't know how much your kind words has helped me. Without you, I most likely would have given up on writing a long time ago, but I didn't, and not a day goes by in which I am not thankful. Now I know how the people who win Oscars feel… all those people to thank… J

"Never had I imagined

Living without your smile

Feeling and Knowing you hear me

It keeps me alive

Alive."

-Mariah Carey, "One Sweet Day."

The fire in the hearth sent a golden light cascading through the space. Its light made shadows as it melted against the objects of the enormous common room. The crackle of flames sounded almost calming against the silence, and its heat chased away the late November frost. Few students were still up at that time of night, most cramming for the Potions test in the morning or learning the History of Magic notes they had slept through. Sitting on the ground near the fireplace were three seventh years, all wrapped in a blanket to keep away the cold.

It was especially cold that year, with Voldemort having almost as much power as he had the year that Harry had defeated him as a baby. For the last two and a half years he had been rising back to power, creating victims, choosing followers. There had only been two attacks, but both had been recent and gave hints that they were not his last. Tension had filled the air of the school and wizarding world; the last fourteen years of peace almost already forgotten.

"So, how about them Cannons?" Ron said, trying to make small talk.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned. "No Quidditch. Please." She shivered. "This is no time for games."

"Damn, Hermione, do you have to be such a drag?" Ron groaned. "We need some cheering up now, don't make us feel worse."

"Us?" Hermione asked. "You're always so concerned about yourself that you completely forget that there are other people involved in this."

Harry cleared his throat. "Do I have to be here for this conversation? If not, I could go and start on the book you got me for my birthday, Hermione."

Ron groaned. " I still can't believe Miss Anti-Divination gave you Legends and Meanings of Astrology for your birthday."

Hermione scowled. "Perhaps I'm not Professor Trewlawny's biggest fan, but I did find that book an excellent read."

"You know what?" Ron said. "I'm going to lay here and go to sleep." He lay down on the wood floor. "When you decide to not be a bloody bitch, wake me up."

"Shut up!" Harry cried. "Both of you. Sheesh."

"Sorry," Hermione whispered, her cheeks flushing. "I guess I'm a bit rattled these days."

"You're not the only one," Harry sighed. "With you too at each other's neck-"

"That's not what I meant," Hermione cut in.

He smiled and rumpled her hair. "I know. It was a joke."

She smiled. "I knew that. I'm not at the top of our class for nothing."

"Good. I was wondering who you did to get there."

She smacked him. "Jerk." But she grinned, and Harry felt that familiar knot in his stomach turn and that big goofy smile cross his face that made him feel completely content as long as she was smiling at him.

He smoothed down a patch of her frizzled hair. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Huh?" Ron said, lifting his face up from its comfortable position on the floor. "Tell anyone what?"

"That Hermione is being loose," Harry said with a grin.

"Oh, ok. I thought it was something important." He resumed his sleeping position.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and laughed. "Oye, he's out like a light," Hermione chuckled.

"I wish the rest of us were that lucky."

"You're not sleeping again?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, I've been sleeping."

"Nightmares?" she suggested. When the only response she got from him was a sad look, she continued. "Oh, I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about them?"

"No."

She sighed and leaned back against the couch. "If you don't tell anyone about them, there's no way of them getting better."

"That's fine with me."

"Do you have to be so stubborn?"

"You're one to talk."

"Sorry for being worried about you," she snapped.

He smiled and laid his head on her shoulder. "Sorry for making you worry." His face was against her neck; his nose inhaling her sent of honeysuckle and woods and…. He sniffed again. Lemon, he decided. She smelled of honeysuckle and lemon and trees. He realized that he was very close to her and withdrew very slowly, trying his best to control the flush of his face. "You smell really good," he said. "I've got to steal some of your shampoo."

She laughed. "I'll doubt it'll control your hair any more than it controls mine." She quickly tried to smooth a bit of her bushy hair down, but failed.

Harry yawned. "It's late."

She nodded in agreement. "Here, I'm going to lie down next to Ron. Make sure I don't go to sleep."

"Ok," he whispered. "It might not be a bad idea. We do have school tomorrow, you know."

"Then we get to go off to Hogsmeade on Saturday," she said softly. "It'll be our last trip until the day after Christmas."

"Our last Christmas at Hogwarts," Harry noted. "Time does fly, doesn't it?"

"And how," she agreed. "Last thing I remember is when you two saved me from the troll. Goodness, I've done some stupid things here."

"So have I."

"Well, it's one thing if you go and do something stupid, but it's an entirely different thing if I do something dumb."

"That's sweet of you."

She yawned and stretched out like a cat. Harry watched her fondly, the way she moaned slightly as she stretched, the way she curled up into a little ball as she rested. "Sleepy?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Can you listen to me for a minute before you pass out?"

"Sure."

"Hermione, I know we've been friends forever, but I think lately I've been- I don't know. I just look at you and feel so happy. When I'm with you, I feel complete. Does that make any sense or am I just crazy?" He looked down at her and saw that she was fast asleep. "That's a relief," he whispered. "Now I get even more time to write a speech."

He laid down between Ron and Hermione, laying a blanket on top of Ron and another on him and Hermione. He kissed her forehead lightly. "Goodnight, sweetie," he whispered as he rested on the wooden floor, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to keep her warm.

*******

They didn't know what to make of it. What had once been a small village in the northernmost mountains of Scotland now lay under rubble and ash. Their first priority was to search for survivors, although in this mess they doubted any had made it. Small flames still bounced from place to place, engorging on what were the last remaining solid particles. The dying embers burned the search teams feet and lowered their spirits, yet they still went on, looking under pieces of stone and wood for bodies, dead or alive.

They had a list, a list of every person who was supposedly in the village during the raid. The list had over one hundred people on it, a large amount of inhabitants for the village's mere three streets. The search team assumed it must have been a tourist attraction, although they had never heard of it.

Hours of searching for survivors turned into days of removing bodies from under fallen buildings and notifying relatives to identify them. Slowly, they found almost everyone on the list, all dead, some recognizable, some not.

The person in charge of the rescue mission was a woman in her mid fifties. She had a face of someone who had once been full of life and energy, but had had her spirit sucked out like a vacuum and turned hard. The team merely called her 'Chief'; few knew her real name. They all had the respect for her great knowledge of the area and her fierce disposition, yet no one took the time out to ask why she never let the straight line of her lips bend into a smile or frown. They treated her with the cold distance that most people are accustomed to.

After a week, the majority of searching had been done. No survivors, the attacker had done a clean job. The chief blamed it on terrorists from Iceland, but the more intelligent members of the search team knew better, although none wanted to question her. The city was in ruins, over one hundred dead; no one wanted to be too involved in this mess. It was best just to clean up and move on.

It was the last night at their campsite on the hill about a mile away from the village. Chief was glancing over the lists and descriptions and orders once more before freeing them. Beers were being opened in the tent while she studied. The members, about fifty of them, were attempting to loosen up and rejuvenate their spirits before moving forward back to the real world after their week in hell.

"You missed one," Chief announced. Although she spoke barely over a whisper, the room was silent in less than a second.

The fist person to come forward was Eric Peterson, the chief's second in command. "What?"

"You missed a person. There is no check by a name," Chief repeated.

"Oye, let me see," he said, leaning over her shoulder. "Hermione Ann Granger." He paused. "Description?"

"Female, age seventeen. Five foot two, one hundred and twenty pounds," Chief recited by memory. "Long brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin."

"Little teenage girl," Peterson commented. "No, we didn't find her body."

"Not anything?" Chief said. "Not a hand, a finger, a limb?"

Peterson sighed. "You know we've been over this area with a fine tooth comb, chief. There's been nothing left to find. She must have burned."

"How do you know if you don't have any evidence!" Chief screamed.

"Do you honestly believe that a little girl like her could survive an attack like this? No one could survive."

"You don't know this attacker," Chief rambled. "He could have taken her hostage-"

"And not let us know about it?" Peterson asked in disbelief. "I don't think so."

Chief shook her head. "What if he tortured her? You don't know him, Peterson. He's a crazy man. He's not even a man anymore."

"I understand," he said calmly. "I also understand the fact that she is dead. There were others with no evident body parts too. She's been burned. All ash."

"It's just that-"

Peterson patted her shoulder. "I know it must be hard. I know this is your first search party, and I know you love this area and the people in it. And I know it is going to be hard to see such destruction. But I swear to you, that little girl is dead, chief. She died in a fire. Or maybe she was dead before the fire; we'll never know. I do know that if you don't put a check by her name and admit to yourself and her parents that she is dead, you'll go crazy. Unfortunately I've done these things before. You need to let go."

Nodding, Chief put a check next to the girl's name. She sat there for a long time, just staring at the letters of the name until they ran together and she realized that she was crying. Everyone else was back to sipping their beers and thinking about how much better their lives would be once they left Scotland, so she slipped outside the tent unnoticed. The night was dark and cloudy and starless; a wind cut through the still of the night and chopped it in half. She clutched her shawl closer to her as her hair blew wildly, as well as the ends of her muggle pants.

She climbed up farther up the fill until she could see the village from afar. She remembered all the good times and bad times that had occurred to her since she had first visited the village when she was thirteen. It still shocked her to look down and not see the bright lights from the pub, or hear the laughs from Zonkos. Her legs ached so she settled upon a patch of grass, sprawling her legs out underneath her.

Dammit, Tom, she cursed. Damn you. You take away first my friends, then my memories, then even my students. Goddamn you.

She shook her head, feeling stupid that he could actually hear her thoughts. She tried to change her thoughts and was reminded of Peterson, full of concern but lacking understanding.

He's only a muggle. He doesn't get it. No one gets it.

He's only a muggle, she repeated to herself. He doesn't have to come here and see this. He doesn't have to sit here and can only think of what if.

He doesn't have to see the week old dark mark faded against the midnight sky.

*******

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Helena Gray asked, flashing her smile at the elderly couple who sat before her. One of her soft brunette curls fell by her face out of her usual bun.

"Oh, aren't you precious!" the elderly woman cried. "No dear, we're just fine."

"Come visit us again," Helena said sweetly.

"Oh, yes, we will," the woman chimed, dragging her husband out the door while musing that London had the friendliest service out of all of the places they had traveled over the winter holidays. After they had walked out the door, Helena let the smile drop and walked into the back of the little coffee shop.

It was called Le Café Magique and took up a corner of the busiest two roads on London's East Side. It was owned by a kind, elderly couple by the name of Price; Helena was one of the many who had benefited through their care. Their only daughter, Charlotte, was seventeen and worked as a waitress after school to earn a bit of spare cash for a car. Helena and the other waitresses all disliked Lottie's temper and mood swings and snootiness, yet said nothing for the fear of being fired. Lottie was adopted, and the Prices' were terrified of her trying to find out who her biological parents were and leaving them. Helena had never seen any parents love their child, even one as snobby as Lottie, more. In giving their love, Kathleen and Peter Price spoiled their only child horribly. Lottie always had to have her way and it was simply unnerving.

Business was slow today, being New Year's Eve near six, their closing time, so Helena went into the café's kitchen to see if she could offer her help to any of the other waitresses. The only one there was Lottie, looking at her reflection in the back of a hanging silver pan.

"Lottie, where is everyone else?"

Lottie twirled one of her platinum strands with her fingers, looking quite pleased with what she saw. "Are you talking to me?"

"Perhaps, being as you're the only other person in this room."

"Boy, you're sharp today, Helena. Sharp as a spoon."

"Lottie-"

"All right, all right. Sara's gone already, and so is Nicole. Felicia's around here somewhere, I think."

Helena grinned. "Now, was it that hard?"

"Absolutely dreadful, if I may say so. I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"Stay patient with those impertinent little people, especially that couple just now. Honestly, if stupidity could kill, I think I'd be the only one alive now."

Helena felt her face flush. "No, I think I would have killed you already."

Lottie laughed. "I didn't mean to insult you. You are quite smart for someone of no money or family at all."

"Why don't you just shut up, Lottie. I don't think you can manage a compliment."

"I am sorry, Helena, I really am. Sometimes I think I take advantage of your kindness." She frowned. "I'm in a bit of a rotten mood. It's the middle of winter and my freckles are just horrid."

"What's wrong with them?"

Lottie frowned, upturning her nose and pulling her full lips into a pout. "What's wrong with them? What's not wrong with them? I hate my freckles. " She glanced up at Helena. "There's this children's book I read when I was young called Freckle Juice. It's about this boy who wants freckles so badly he pays for a 'special potion' and when it doesn't work, he draws the freckles in with purple marker. I almost cried at the stupidity of that boy; he could have had mine for free."

"They're cute," Helena said. "They give you personality." She snorted softly. "Not like you don't have enough of that on your own."

"I heard that."

"It was meant for you too."

Lottie walked over to the row of hanging pots and again glanced at her reflection. "Not bad, even with the freckles." She picked one up and held it in front of Helena. "What do you think?"

"About you or me?"

"You, stupid."

Helena shook her head. "I really don't know."

"It's not that hard. You should have an opinion about the level of your own attractiveness."

"I don't know," Helena said. "It's just that, when I look at me in a mirror, I feel like I'm looking at another person. It's very hard for me to comprehend that this person is actually me."

"You don't remember anything, do you?" Lottie asked.

"No."

"Nothing?"

Helena sighed. "Nothing up to five years ago. My first memory I have is waking up in an alley and trying to track down breakfast."

"Do you have any idea about who you are? Who you were, I mean."

"I don't know who I was nor who I am. I really can't find my future until I find my past."

Lottie coughed. "Very touching and poetic. Perhaps you were a writer in your other life, or maybe just a grade A whiner."

"You would know a bit about whining, now wouldn't you?"

"Oh, do shut up!"

"Sorry, Lottie. I'm just not in the best of moods right now."

"That's the difference between you and me, Helena. You're able to apologize without wincing." She paused. "Helena, how long have we known each other?"

"About four years."

"Exactly!" Lottie continued. "You've known me since I was a little girl of thirteen, correct?"

Helena nodded, impatient. "You know it is. Now what-"

"And in these four years, my family has clothed you, gotten you work here, and given you your little flat upstairs, isn't that right?"

"You've been very kind to me," Helena said.

"Yes, we have been. We found you wondering around the streets outside of London, after living on the streets of all places for a year, with not a clue of who you were or where you are from, and took you in as our own. Most people wouldn't have done that, but my parents are extremely generous."

"Lottie, yes, you've been more than generous with me. But what-"

"Shush, I'm not finished yet. All you had was that dreadful necklace that said HAG on it, which you insisted must have been your initials in another life. Personally I think it was just a joke gift. Probably a reflection of your personality. Yet it was your only clue, so we named you Helena Alison Gray."

"What's your point?" Helena asked, exasperated with Lottie's guilt trip.

"My point is, Helena, is that perhaps you might owe us a bit in exchange. Kindness for kindness."

"I thought a few minutes ago you said I was kind."

Lottie sighed. "I was talking about favors, Helena. I'm asking you for a favor, you dense moron."

"That's not exactly how you butter people up Lottie, by calling them dense. I should walk right out now."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Lottie cried. "Please stay!

Helena glanced toward the door. She just wanted to go home, sleep after a long day at work, perhaps luxuriate in a bubble bath. She could have a glass of cider and cheer on the New Year by herself. Yet she knew she should never leave with Lottie on her bad side. "You have thirty seconds," she stated.

"Ok," Lottie began. "You know how my parents won't even let me look at a boy, let alone date one, right?"

Helena nodded and smiled to herself. "I know."

"Well, you see, there's this boy. He goes to school near where I do, and we've been talking lately and walking home together, and, oh, Helena, I like him so much!"

She chuckled. "What's the problem?"

"Well, there's two. The first one is that he's older than me. He goes to university, and he's nineteen."

"Isn't that illegal?"

"No!" Lottie cried. "If I were a year younger, it would be, but not now that I'm seventeen."

"He might be using you, Lottie."

"He wouldn't! His name is Eddie and he's a bit short and has sandy brown hair and is so sweet!" Lottie swooned dramatically. "I think I might be in love."

"What's the other problem?" Helena asked.

"Like I said earlier, my parents. Helena, dear, I want to start out the New Year right with him. I want him to come in here hold me in his arms and kiss me at midnight." Lottie smiled and turned to Helena. "Do you think you could do me a favor?"

"For the millionth time, what?"

Lottie paused. "Will you deliver a note to him?"

"Tonight?" Helena exclaimed, incredulous.

"Yes, tonight."

"For christsake, Lottie, it's New Year's Eve. I'm not going to prance around London just waiting for the drunks to come out. The answer is no."

"Helena," Lottie whined. "Please."

"NO! Why can't you?"

"Oh, Helena," Lottie said, smiling. "I doubt you've ever read that book, the one with all the rules, but the first one is not to make yourself look desperate. Which would be exactly what I would be doing if I went."

"I'm not going, Lottie. I don't care what you say. I'm not going so that you can play hard to get with some boy. No way."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"No."

Lottie slammed her fist against the table. "Goddamn you! All I'm asking is for a small favor! But no, Helena's too damn selfish to do one thing that Lottie asks. Right, I'm just seventeen. What do I know."

"Lottie, I'm not going to risk being raped by a drunk for you. Sorry."

Her face turned red. "Fine. That's perfectly fine. Don't go. I will. I will also inform you that I will tell my parents."

"I'm so scared."

"You know they'd fire you if I gave them the word."

Helena sighed. "You don't own the store, Charlotte. You're just a stupid little girl."

"You know damn well that my parents will fire you if I please. You know damn well that my parents will do anything I please. How would you like sleeping on the streets again, Helena? No food, shelter, clothes. I'd bet you'd love meeting up with some of your friends you met on the streets. You know, the drug dealers, the mobsters." She paused. "Or the rapists."

"Fuck you!"

"I'll take that as a no, you wouldn't like that."

"Would you actually do that? Over a letter? Have you gone mad, Lottie?"

"That shouldn't be the issue at hand. Did you enjoy living on the streets, Helena? Did you? Did you like having to dig your meals out of trash cans, and when you couldn't find scraps, beg for food?"

"Burn in hell."

"Helena, you know your options. I hope you know which one you'll choose."

Helena paused for a moment, then slapped Lottie as hard as she could. "Give me the goddamn letter."

"Really?"

"Just give me the fucking letter before I change my mind."

Lottie fumbled around in her pocket and handed Helena a sheet of paper. "Now where to I go?" Helena asked.

"There's a small pub a block away, called the Leaky Cauldron."

"I've never heard of it."

"It's… very small," Lottie mumbled. "It's not very well known."

"Should he be in there?"

Lottie nodded. "Thank you, Helena."

Helena pushed her out of the way and slammed the door behind her. "Happy bloody New Year to you too."

Lottie put her head down on the table. She hated being so mean, but she had to. She just prayed that the other end of this mess had held up his end of the bargain.

*******

The Weasley Christmas tree was still up. Molly never took it down before the first of the year; when the kids were still at Hogwarts she would take it down after they left. It left golden warmth shining from the center of the den, a memory of the holidays present and past. Molly walked by and paused, gazing at a few of the ornaments collected over the years, like wooden sugar plum Ginny had made in her kindergarten class, or the mistletoe that would spontaneously combust when touched, the first gag gift from Gred and Forge.

Her seven children sat around the fireplace in the den, sipping champagne. Harry was also there as usual, along with Ginny's friend Colin, Fred's girlfriend Katie, and Percy's wife, Penelope. Molly remembered affectionately when they were all small and dependent on her. That was no more; even Ginny, her baby, was an adult at twenty-one. Molly had always wanted a romance between Harry and her Ginny, as well as between Ron and Hermione, but her dreams were shattered the night she heard of Hermione's death. Both boys went into mourning, although in the five years since, Harry had never moved on. Molly acknowledged the simple truth in this: Harry had loved her.

"Anyone want some more whisky?" Charlie offered.

"Yuck, that stuff makes me gag," Ginny commented. "I'd prefer champagne, thank you."

"I'll have some more, Charlie," Ron said, passing his glass. "Ginny, you've never even tasted whisky."

"I have too," she protested. "It's disgusting."

Colin nodded. "Whiskey does have a taste that takes some getting used to."

"I think Colin is sweet on Giiinnnnyy," George whispered to his twin, receiving a nod of agreement.

Molly swatted her son in the shoulder. "Don't aggravate your sister that way, not tonight. Colin is just a friend."

George groaned and rubbed his shoulder. "When is that woman ever going to lose her hearing?"

"The same day she'll be able to tell us apart," Fred said.

"Drinking whiskey determines the men from the boys," Bill joked loudly, trying to unite the room into one conversation.

"I guess I'm a boy then," Ginny said slyly, taking another sip of her drink.

"You're as much boy as Fred and George are serious," Molly added.

Laughter broke out among the crowd. "I think she's saying that you're a bit of a girly-girl, Gin," Ron chuckled, playfully tugging her hair.

"That's not the worst thing anyone's said to me," she announced.

"Ha. Hey George, do you remember the time when-" Fred was abruptly cut off by Katie stepping on his foot.

"There'll be none of that now," Katie warned. "It's New Year's Eve. Cheer up."

"Yes, now is a time to be merry!" Arthur said loudly as he came in from the front door.

"Hallo, dad!" Bill cheered from his position by the fireplace.

"Daddy!" Ginny cried. "Finally. I was worried about you."

"Sorry, Pumpkin. So sorry to leave you here with all these boys, Molly," he said, giving his wife a peck on the cheek. "I got hung up at the office."

"On New Year's Eve?" George asked incredulously.

"The Ministry is very busy these days," Harry said.

Ron slugged his shoulder. "Now, look who sounds like Percy!"

Percy scowled. "I resent that, Ron. I resent that." Penny patted his back softly to calm him.

Arthur strolled by Harry's chair and gave his almost-son a pat on the shoulder. "How are you doing?" he asked softly.

"Fine," Harry whispered.

"Glad to hear it." Arthur gave him one last pat and sat down between Charlie and Ginny.

"So, George," Molly started. "Where's Alicia? I was expecting her."

"Her mum's sick," George explained. "She had to fly to Kent to make sure her mum was ok."

"What did her mum have?" Ginny asked.

"Pneumonia," Katie answered.

"What a sweet child to go see her mother!" Molly marveled. "Now, George, if I was ill, would you come to see me?"

George smiled. "Mum, I come and see you when you're well. Of course I'd come and visit you if you were sick. Thank goodness you're a healthy woman or we'd all still be living here."

"Nothing wrong with that," Harry said. "Hell, I'd move in here too if Ron wouldn't kill me for deserting him."

"Wouldn't miss you, just your help on the rent," Ron joked.

Ginny snorted. "Ron, you'll never be able to live completely alone. You're afraid of your own shadow. You still sleep with your night-light and teddy bear." She put her hand over her mouth. "Oops, did I just say that out loud?"

"It's ok, Ron," Bill said kindly. "I slept with my blanket until four years ago."

"I gave up on my comfort object when I got married," Percy said.

Penelope smiled. "Of course, I'm always waking up to find him clutching my hand or the pillow. You may have given up on the stuffed animal, Perce, but not the idea of having it."

George frowned. "Percy never had a stuffed animal."

"His comfort item was his head boy badge, wasn't it Perce?" Fred mocked.

"Percy had a flashlight," Charlie reflected. "Named him Albus."

"Very, very funny, thank you," Percy fumed. "I think we all had a stuffed animal when we were young, so come off of it."

"I never had a comfort object," Charlie said. "When I was little I'd just go in and sleep with Mum and Dad in their bed."

Ron snorted. "Charlie, I think we all did that." He then muttered something that sounded like 'How embarrassing.'

"Thank you!" Arthur cheered sarcastically, lifting his glass in the air to an imaginary toast. "Look Molly, someone who loves us."

Ginny smacked his arm. "You know I love you too, Daddy."

"Of course, pumpkin." Arthur teased. "You're just the one who went and left us for your big reporting job at the Daily Prophet and your practically penthouse apartment…"

"First off, Dad, it's just a studio. Second, it's not a huge job, but I will be able to move up soon."

Harry laughed. "Yes, in two years you plan on being chief editor."

Ginny paused. "Well, maybe not in two years, but…"

"Percy," the twins chanted. "Ginny's turning into Percy!"

"Speaking of which," Ron said, looking at Percy and Penelope, deep in conversation. "Do you two have anything to share with the class?"

"Do you want to tell them or shall I?" Percy asked.

Penny laughed. "You go right ahead, sweetheart." She lightly pecked his cheek.

Percy put his glass down. "Penny and I have an announcement."

"We noticed," Bill muttered.

"Get on with it," Charlie agreed.

"Well, it's huge, but, um…."

"Percy, speechless?" Ron said. "Damn, this has never happened before."

Percy looked at his feet. "I don't know exactly how to put it into words."

"Need a dictionary?" Ginny asked with a fake cheer.

"Spit it out!" George cried.

Fred nodded. "We're dying in suspense!"

Molly smiled sweetly at her son. "Whatever you say will be perfect, Percy darling."

Percy nodded. "Well, here goes. Penny and I are having a baby."

"Really?" George inquired. "I didn't know guys could have babies, did you Forge?"

"No, Gred, I didn't."

"Congratulations!" Bill exclaimed. He stood up and walked towards Percy, on his way smacking the twins upside the head. "Congrats, Perce!"

Hugs and kisses spread around the room like wildfire. Everyone's drink was filled (with the exception of Penelope's). It took Ron almost five minutes to realize that the room was one person emptier than it was a minute ago.

"Gin," Ron whispered. "Have you seen Harry?"

She shook her head. "Isn't he here? I just saw him a few minutes ago-" She looked around the room. "Now where did he go?"

"I don't know," Ron admitted. "We need to find him. He hasn't been feeling that well tonight."

"According to you, he's NEVER feeling well."

Ron sighed. "Gin, you know how hard the holidays are for him."

She nodded. "I know. Let's go and find him."

*******

They didn't have to look far. Harry was in Ron's old bedroom, curled under a blanket and reading Legends and Meanings of Astrology. When he heard them come in, he put the book down and smiled. "Hello."

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked sweetly, sitting on the bed next to him.

"Nothing. Why would you think that?"

Ginny laid a hand on his forehead. "Ooh, you're warm. Ron, where's the thermometer?"

Ron ignored his sister. "Well Harry, when you run off in the middle of a discussion without saying anything, I'd assume that something is wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," Harry insisted. "I'm just feeling a bit under the weather."

Ginny frowned. "Accio thermometer!" She stuck the thermometer in his mouth. "There, don't say anything until it's finished."

Ron sat down on the foot of the bed. "Harry, you're my best friend, and I'm very worried about you. All you do is work on your curses, and Voldemort hasn't attacked in five years. Even when you're home, all you do is mope around, either staring off into space or reading this book," he said, pointing to Legends and Meanings of Astrology.

"Mmmmmmph," Harry said. "Mmmph mmm mph."

"Don't talk with the thermometer in your mouth!" Ginny scolded.

"Mmmmmmmmm," Harry whined.

"Shhhhhh. Here," she said, taking it out of his mouth. "It's normal."

"I'm not sick," Harry insisted. "I'm just a bit tired."

"Maybe you need sleeping pills," Ginny suggested. "If you're tired all the time, that is."

"I'm fine," he said. "Perfectly fine." He laid down against the pillows and focused his gaze on a picture on the nightstand.

"Damn," Ron swore. He stood up and took the picture and studied it briefly. It was of him, Harry, and Hermione their sixth year. Harry was in the middle, one arm around Hermione and the other one patting Ron's back. "Harry, why don't you go on a date with me one time? I know this great girl from the office, and you and me and her and Laurel can go on a double date."

"You and Laurel don't want me tagging along with you."

"Sure we do!" Ron cried cheerfully. "It'll be fun. You need to go on some dates."

"Dating is overrated."

"It's fun."

"Fun is overrated."

Ron groaned. "Harry, do you know how bad that sounds? You've got to live a little. The girl's name is Tiffany. You'll like her."

"Tiffany? She sounds like an airhead."

Ginny giggled. "I actually have to agree. She sounds like a cocktail waitress. Is she a blonde?"

"Ok, fine," Ron said. "Um, Laurel has a friend named Cathie. I've met her. She's very nice and pretty and very funny."

"No thank you."

"All right, then how about Elizabeth, Laurel's sister? She's very fun and extremely nice looking."

"No."

"Ron," Ginny said softly. "I don't think he's interested in going on a blind date with one of your or Laurel's friends."

Harry shrugged. "Ginny gets it."

"Why not?" Ron asked. "Why ever not?"

"I'm focusing on my career now," Harry said. "I don't have time for a girlfriend."

"No, you're too busy staring at the ceiling and reading that stupid book over and over again."

"Exactly!" Harry cried. "Now, if you'd excuse me, I'd like to get back to it."

Ginny started to walk to the door, but Ron gave her a look and she sat down. "What do you think about Percy and Penelope? Aren't you excited for them?"

"Very."

"I'm going to be an uncle," Ron said. "I hope he'll turn out more like Penny than Percy."

"He'll probably turn out like one of the twins and will drive Percy insane," Ginny laughed.

"I'm surprised that Percy hasn't driven Penny insane. Poor girl, I don't know how she stands him."

"I slept with her," Harry whispered.

Both Ron and Ginny looked at him, incredulous. "With Penelope?" Ron asked.

"Percy's going to kill you!" Ginny cried.

"We only did it once, so I never told you-" Harry stopped in his tracks. "I didn't sleep with Penny."

"Well, would you mind clarifying who you slept with? I'm just a bit confused," Ron said.

"It was the that Christmas night. I don't know why I never told you. I guess it didn't really matter anymore after…."

"Hermione," Ginny whispered. "Are you talking about Hermione?"

Harry looked down. "You weren't there; you were home for the Christmas break getting prepared for Percy's wedding. We were together all day, eating and laughing." He looked up with tears in his eyes. "We had a snowball fight with Draco Malfoy that afternoon and kicked his ass and-"

"What does this have to do with you having sex with Hermione?" Ron asked.

Harry paled, then turned a deep scarlet. "Well, we were in the common room and we started kissing and then we went upstairs. You can take it from there."

"Where?" Ginny asked.

"In her dormitory. On the floor."

"On the floor?" Ron gasped.

"Well, the first time. Then we went to the bed."

"You did it more than once?" Ginny inquired. "I thought you said you only did it once."

"Well, it was on the same night, so it only does count as once. And the next day-"

"She went to Hogsmeade when You-Know-Who attacked and got herself killed," Ron finished. "Harry, I… I don't know what to say."

Ginny shook her head. "It's like something out of a cheesy romance novel, so obvious and so sad at the same time." She looked at Harry. "Except there was nothing cheesy about your romance."

"Yeah, my one night of it."

"And since then, you haven't…" Ron asked.

"Had sex? No."

"I was going to say even kissed anyone, but we can use your words."

Harry laughed. "Oh, nope. I'm pathetic, aren't I? I'm just a kid who's still mourning the loss of his first love. Sad, isn't it?"

"No, not at all," Ginny said, patting his head.

"That's why you need to start dating again," Ron said.

"Ron, will you can it about me dating? I'm not ready."

"It's been five years! You're plenty ready!"

Harry glared at him. "I'll be ready when I'm ready."

"Which will be never!"

"I don't want to hear from you, Ron. You don't know what I have gone through for the last five years, have you?"

Ron's mouth dropped open. "I don't understand? You don't think I understand? I lost Hermione too, Harry. Maybe I wasn't in love with her, but that didn't mean I loved her any less. She was my best friend, practically my sister. So don't you dare start telling me that I don't understand how it feels to lose someone. Don't even try it."

Harry shook his head. "I'm tired of this." He stood up and started towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Ron yelled.

"Out."

"Harry, don't go," Ginny begged. "It's New Year's Eve. Stay."

Harry leaned down and kissed Ginny's cheek. "Happy New Year," he whispered.

"Harry," Ron cried, but he had already left and slammed the door behind him.

*******

When Helena reached the pub, it was already almost midnight. It was dark and a bit frightening out, but she still had enough pent up anger at Lottie to keep her going. That brat, she thought. I'm going to kill her when I get back. I'm going to kill her.

Helena had been in quite a few pubs before, especially in her days on the streets, but she had never seen one like this. They offered things on the menu like butterbeer, mead and pumpkin juice, things she had never heard off. Pumpkin pie, yes, but never pumpkin juice. There were three people in the pub excluding her: the bartender, an middle aged man in a very strange piece of clothing; an old woman in the back corner who looked at least two hundred; and a young man with messy black hair facing away from her was at the bar.

"Come on in, miss," the bartender said. "You look familiar; have you been in here before?"

"No," she answered.

"Well, I'm Tom," he said. "And this is my pub."

"Nice to met you," she said softly.

He shook her hand. "Now, what is a pretty little witch like yourself doing here on New Year's Eve. You do have somewhere to go, don't ya?"

Helena stared at him for a moment before nodding. Did he just call me a witch? She asked herself. Maybe he was calling me a bitch…no, I know that's not right.

"Too bad," Tom said. "I'm sure Harry'd like to take someone as pretty as you home with him." He pointed to the young man at the end of the counter who had his face on the table. "Hey, Harry, you awake?"

"Unfortunately," the young man groaned. "I need another glass of mead. Or some whisky."

Tom shook his head. "Nope, you've gotten enough already. You need to sober a bit."

"I'm not drunk; I'm depressed," the young man said without moving his head.

"Um, I was just wondering," Helena said.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I was just wondering if you know if there's someone by the name of Eddie here. I have a note to deliver to him. I was told he'd be here."

"Eddie?" Tom said, scratching his head. "I don't think I know of any Eddie."

"He's about nineteen," she added. "He has sandy brown hair."

"Sure it's not Dennis?" Ton asked.

Helena shook her head. "No, I'm sure. It's Eddie."

"Well, you might be at the wrong pub, because I know all my customers and I don't know any Eddie." He smiled at her. "If you buy a drink I'll ask what your name is."

"No thank you," she said. "I really do need to be on my way."

She noticed that the young man was looking at her. What was his name, oh yes, Harry. He was watching her, leaving his face unguarded so she could read every emotion that was there: confusion, grief, fear, joy. She noticed that he was very handsome; he had messy black hair, emerald green eyes, glasses, and a perfect nose. He was thin without being skinny and wore a black coat over a pair of khaki pants. She looked at his eyes and was almost knocked over by their intensity.

"Hermione," he whispered.

The next thing she knew he was all over her. He was hugging her so tightly she couldn't breathe; his mouth was absently kissing her face and her mouth. A rush of fear flowed through her blood, reminding her of a time before when a stranger had touched her so intimately. Panicking, she kicked him as hard as she could, sending him flying at least three feet.

He looked up at her from the floor, his green eyes huge with confusion, filled with tears. He looked so young at that moment that her heart literally ached for him. Tom came over and patted his shoulder, then looked up at Helena.

"I'm sorry, " he said. "Harry lost his girlfriend in that Hogsmeade attack a few years back. He's had a bit too much to drink tonight."

"Was her name Hermione?"

The young man nodded. "I'm so sorry. It's just that you look so much like her-" he trailed off again, tears running down his face. "I'm sorry."

Helena nodded. "I'm sorry I kicked you, I overreacted."

"No, it's ok," Harry said, not taking his eyes off her.

"Well, I'm going to go," Helena said, trying to get out of the pub. "I'll see you around."

"Wait," Harry cried, getting to his feet. "I'll walk you out."

"That's not necessary-"

"Please," he insisted. "Let me, please."

Helena felt it was a bad idea, but she nodded anyway. Harry followed her, not saying a word until they were out of the pub. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Did I hurt you?"

He smiled. "Just a bit. You're pretty strong, you know."

"Well, I work at it."

He stuck out his hand. "I'm Harry Potter, by the way."

"Helena Gray," she answered.

"That's a nice name."

"Thank you." She smiled. "I don't even know if it's really my name."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was younger I obviously got hit on the head or something. I don't remember anything of my childhood."

Harry frowned. "Maybe it's a good thing."

Helena laughed. "I don't know. I'd just like to know for once what name I was christened. If I had any family." She turned to Harry. "Why aren't you at home, with your family?"

He shook his head. "Don't have any family. My parents died when I was a baby."

"I'm so sorry."

He looked at her strangely. "You mean you didn't know?"

"About what?"

"My-" he paused mid-sentence. "So, Helena, where do you work?"

"I'm a waitress, at a coffee shop. We're actually heading towards there now. I live on the third floor."

"Oh," he said, suddenly comprehending. "So, I guess I'm escorting you home."

"I guess so." She paused to attempt to smooth her hair. "Don't you have any other family?"

"I have a godfather, Sirius, but he travels so much I never see him. Lupin's also practically family, but he's off teaching school. I also have an aunt and uncle and cousin whom I grew up with, but they're a very unpleasant bunch so I never really see them anymore."

"You must have somewhere you could go," Helena said

"Oh yeah, I've got an apartment I share with my friend Ron about three blocks from here. He's with his family now. I'd be there too if he wasn't ticking me off."

"What did he do?"

"He's trying to set me up on a blind date, and I don't want to go."

"Maybe he's worried about you," Helena suggested.

Harry nodded. "I know he is. I haven't even been on a date since Hermione died."

"You should go," she said.

"To humor him?"

"Perhaps, but maybe you'll actually enjoy yourself."

Harry snorted. "Right."

"You never know what life is going to throw at you next. Maybe you'll get thrown something nice if you attempt to catch it."

He smiled. "You like philosophy?"

She shrugged. "Well, here we are. This is it!" She cheered, motioning to the building.

"It's nice," Harry commented.

"It's nothing special, but it's home." She looked at him. "Well, I'll see you around."

"Maybe I'll come in and have a cup of coffee later on," he said.

"And tell me about your blind date. It probably won't be as horrible as you think."

He laughed. "I wouldn't bet on that."

"Goodnight."

"Happy New Year," he called out.

"Happy New Year, Harry Potter," she whispered as she shut the door.

Helena leaned against the door, proud of herself; friends had been one of the things lacking in her life and she had just made a new one. A very handsome one too, handsome enough to make all her co-workers green with envy. She stuck her hand inside her coat pocket and found the forgotten note. " Looks like Lottie'll just have to be mad at me," she whispered. Taking a quick look around to see that no one was lurking in the shadows, she opened the note and was startled to see that it was blank.

Outside Harry smiled and walked towards his apartment, whistling, being in the best mood he had been in for a long time.

Author's Note: What's up with Lottie? Who is Helena? How's Harry's blind date? Poor you, you have to wait until the next part. I do know what will make me write faster… I love reviews… hint, hint J .

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's most likely not mine. If you have never heard of it, it most likely belongs to my muse.